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Like A Rolling Stone	By : CyreliaJ Category: +M to R > One Piece Views: 3881 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece or any of its characters. I'm also not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
Well I finally made it to the end of what was supposed to be 2 parts at best haha. But anyhoo here wraps of this ridiculous bit of smut. Hopefully no one's too disappointed with the ending but well you can't please 'em all. An important note. I wrote this as if everyone was speaking Japanese for the most part and just treated it as translated Japanese (not counting suffixes). I mention that because in this chapter I did write the actual Japanese words out just so the conversation makes sense. I think everyone knows them who've seen the subs but just in case. "Santoryu" is the "three sword style" and "noro" is "slow" (though it's technically more of a sound effect than any type of adjective). That being said thank you all for reading and commenting!

If you’re a good boy, Sanji-chan… if you forget I’m here and make it od then maybe later I’ll let you… Sanji lets that thought trail off before the blood rushes all over his body and makes him pass out. If I… then you’ll… dear God… She whispered that to him and he would have doubted himself but that look, that smile, that perfect everything that made him somehow know that she wasn’t lying. It’s almost enough to make his entire head explode like hard boiled eggs left unattended but he forces himself in the time that he turns back to Zoro to breathe, to compartmentalize, and that challenge to please, both him and her stirs that fire like fra diavolo searing through his brain, the pressure in his head intensifying until the threat of passing out comes back again with a vengeance.
“…however you want,” Sanji repeats with a soft swallow almost unable to believe he even said the words himself.
   He doesn’t look away again as he watches some shift on Zoro’s shitty face that’s rapidly losing whatever annoyance the situation has caused. Sanji gives another soft bite a million insipid come ons he’s seen and read flickering through his mind like a recipe index. It flips, none seeming quite right for the situation, too fake, too false and while he wants to please Nami in the worst way possible- and shit how’s he supposed to pretend she isn’t standing there with those beautiful massive breasts on display?- he remembers that he started this for a reason and that reason is kneeling in front of him almost leaning back in face to face. Should I kiss him again? Nami likes that. She really likes that. Sanji considers that as he unconsciously sucks the lip of that finger daring farther, another flick of the tongue slipping around a slow circular motion that makes him shift on his knees and nearly go back for round two.
   Well that’s an unexpected thought. But with the way the stupid mosshead is looking at him it seems they’re thinking almost the same thing. Sanji turns his head, pulling back.
“If you think you can handle it,” he adds under his breath nearly too low for anyone else to hear. Who are you kidding? If he can handle it? This is going to kill you, Sanji. Right there. Nami is right there and you can’t so much as turn your head or… Or why do you keep looking at me like that? He catches it half obscured by his fringe but it’s there with Zoro’s eyes locked onto him intensely with the primitive possession only a man could direct so fiercely. It makes his breath catch, makes him falter, it makes him acutely aware of just how hard he is, his cock aching, swollen, about to burst needing to come.
Whether that idiot decides to throw him down on his back or if he needs to take the initiative again he’s close to not caring.
“Come here,” Zoro growls at him the most demanding, the most guttural sound he’s heard all night and Sanji’s first instinct is to meet that head on, lock horns until one of them gives. The grin that Sanji shoots is wicked and he’s not sure if that muscle head has the sense to brace himself but Sanji decides that it’s really none of his concern. Only a scant foot separates their bodies, he realizes almost dumbly but that suits him just fine as he throws his full weight at unseating Zoro’s hip, surprised when in one neat motion his momentum rolls him on his back, Zoro neatly using that weight against him to pin him down by the shoulders, their legs twining together.
   Zoro looks down, his dark hooded gaze making Sanji pant as he feels the shift of shaft hard, thick, still sweat sticky rubbing against his own.
“That’s a good, bitch,” Zoro whispers bringing his mouth to the shell of Sanji’s ear where no one else hears it. Sanji feels his body tense, his shoulders try and hitch up before he forces himself to be still, the only movement he makes is a needy unconscious thrust of hips pushing against Zoro.

“What did you just… Shit…” Zoro’s hand on his left thigh roughly tugs, knee braced against his waist and Sanji feels that heavy grind against him, feels the hard muscles against his skin, the faint scars making a brutal unapologetic landscape. He wraps a leg around, his heel digging into the small of Zoro’s back hard receiving nothing but a grunt in answer, another thrust, another rub of friction with Zoro’s teeth punctuating to his neck roughly.
   “You heard me.” Sanji blinks his eyes open realizing only now that they’d been shut, his mind an unusual haze of clarity focused singly on the man on top of him. He has a fleeting thought to turn, to look over a broad shoulder and see what he can match to the soft gasps from Nami’s direction with a visual but he lets it go. He’s in control- that is he knows what he needs to do and no other distraction filters through- he’s the master chef slicing, stirring, dividing his attention amongst every detail of the whole completed dish. That dish is ultimately Nami but first to braise, to simmer, to sear ‘til the smoke rises and that cut of meat sizzles on top of him, crackles another growl of “bitch” in his ear and it brings him full circle back to just why he’s on his back in the first place. “So, cook, are you we gonna fight or fuck?”
   Another rock of hips, another gasp that he realizes is from his own lips and it makes him relive that dream, that painful waking hard on from phantom lips, a phantom mouth that right now is too shitty real to be anything but reality. Don’t…
“…say that again…” The words pass in a soft breath, Zoro rocking his hips, rocking into him. That’s not what he meant. Sanji moves his hands from the ground, from the useless place at his sides where they clench and unclench with every slide against him. His right leg is tense, twisting as he goes to grab that stupid short mossy head and wrench it back from that juncture of his neck and shoulder bitten roughly into sensitivity.
   Sanji turns his hips feeling another slide of that shaft friction building, Zoro’s cock pushing against his with a rubrub. His knee locks into that hip tighter, the foreskin on his own cock drawn back and forth, rubbing ‘til he feels that faint wetness dribble from the tip slippery sliding faster until it’s almost too much sensation. He pushes, Zoro’s head coming into focus annoyed, flushed, that stupid shitty mouth breathing hard as he looks down. Sanji licks his lips, tilts his hips again with a soft swear. He doesn’t know what about his expression, what about his face that idiot looks at but he finds his wrists gripped hard, shoved back to the rug, the hard wood of the deck thumping even through that small bit of cushion as Zoro holds him down and crushes their mouths together again.
   Sanji hadn’t thought to take a breath first. He forgot to breathe altogether which is crazy since he’s been breathing heavily and panting hard like that sweltering jungle Little Garden heat. But right now he lacks for breath and when Zoro once more roughly covers his mouth nearly missing teeth hitting. He almost immediately sees spots, hands curling to fists, a high pitched gasping squeak escaping his throat. He turns his hips, left right only finding that further rush of blood, that hot heavy hardness flaring brighter and hotter and it only makes the spots behind his eyes pulse harder into bright blue gas flames, the more lightheaded he feels. Sanji’s shoulders strain his back arches as much as the position will allow and yet the more he fights the more Zoro grinds against him, the closer he feels like any second they’ll do some backwards body swap and meld into one writhing mass. But Sanji doesn’t turn his head as Zoro steals his breath, as tongue dances, pirouettes, licking the rook of his mouth, circling his tongue swirling like thick butter on a sizzling pan.
   And Zoro sizzles, crackles a static charge between them nipping Sanji’s tongue, squeezing his wrists harder than he could ever see him do to a woman and whatever he promised Nami, the shithead didn’t tell him not to fight and if it’s not a command then he’s not breaking it to bite Zoro’s tongue and make him draw back with a curse while he takes a greedy desperate swallow of air. Sanji smirks at the growl that Zoro levels at him.
“What the hell was that for?” comes from between grit teeth and Sanji’s arm twitches out of instinct of drawing from a cigarette. He chews him lip for just a second thoughtfully still wearing that grin.
“You didn’t tell me not to,” Sanji practically sings as Zoro snarls in his face but instead of being met with a violent riposte, Zoro releases his wrist, leaving his right hand free and Sanji finds fingers immediately flying to his lips easing that unconscious oral fixation as he nibbles the side of his index finger.
“Yeah, chew on that a while then rotten cook. I’m getting sick of your stupid bitchy attitude.”
   “Then why don’t you do something about it, mosshead?” he snaps beck removing the digit just long enough to level a damn good glare. His eyes open wide, Sanji blinks away fine strands falling into the one as Zoro takes hold of his knee and practically shoves it to his chest. Sanji’s long leg bends easily the motion leaving him wide, exposed, and Zoro lets go of his other wrist to grab both knees now pushing them even further apart. Sanji can feel fission fizzling up and down his spine like tonic water as he dares just a brief flashing glance over Zoro’s shoulder to see Nami’s eyes watching them both, vacillating between the shitty swordsman’s ass and his own- Oh Nami Goddess for you to see me like this… He tips his head back throwing his forearm over his face.
   Sanji’s face feels hot. He can feel the blaze of his forehead seeming to burn his skin and his chest tightens, a hitch in his breath Zoro’s large index finger circling his hole teasing him.
“Shit,” he swears softly under his breath, the lack of sight making it feel even more intense, making him feel weirdly vulnerable in a way he’s not entirely sure that he hates. Sanji can feel the tension in his body sensing Nami’s eyes still on him unable to imagine what she must even think with him laid out like a delicate woman while Zoro’s stupid meaty hands paw at him. He feels a shift, hearing a soft spit, likely into Zoro’s hand if he’s imagining right and he sees so easily the most brilliant vivid image of Zoro slicking his large cock, taking extra time to circle the head, rubbing, making sure it’s good and wet, shining bright with a mix of his own spit and precome and Sanji clamps down a shiver, but even so can’t help the slight extra tilt of his hips in invitation.
   C’mon, musclehead, you don’t use your fucking brain any other time what’s stopping you now? Just fuck me already if you think I can’t take it then-
“That’s all your using for lube?!” comes a loud protest from Nami and well it’s perfectly fine by him really it’s not like he’s never-
“You got a problem with that?!” Zoro yells back stopping, Sanji gritting his teeth in frustration swearing softly under his breath. Not now not now dammit dammit.
“Here!” Sanji hears something catch and in spite of himself he moves his arm seeing Zoro holding a small pink bottle of something that he can’t quite make out. Zoro doesn’t seem to have any problem as Nami chides him on being boorish, inconsiderate, and quite possibly stupid- an assessment that Sanji doesn’t disagree with in the slightest.
   “I’m not putting…” he sees Zoro squinting to read the label in the darkness and he can see that scowling face screw further into a black cloud of “oh hell no”. Sanji has half a mind to tell that shitty swordsman that if Nami says jump he damn well better ask how high but catches himself before he can do anything that would displease her. Right. Don’t fight the stupid mosshead where she can see. He swallows hard, an indefinable woman’s voice blurring of so many different beauties he’s desired over the years congregating to a damning mental chiding of “be a good girl, Sanji-chan” and he just breathes deeply, reminding himself of the beautiful reward to come for good behavior, for biting his lip, throwing away any shred of self respect he has and just… begging the asshole the way he knows will please Nami the most.
“Please… please… Zoro… sir…” God that hurts. That hurts so much but there’s a glow to Nami’s face that the light catches beautifully, a brightness of her eyes and those… shit those beautiful succulent breasts shift so beautifully when she shifts, bounce slightly and oh god God he’ll say whatever she wants him to say however many times. “I need you… fuck me… just use it and fuck me…”
   Sanji swallows, his legs tense from where they’re bent back and it takes a damn monumental effort not to haul off and kick Zoro’s head off when he turns back to him with the stupidest smuggest shit eating grin Sanji’s ever seen on his face. He looks from the bottle to Sanji waving it with a taunt.
“Is this what you want, Sanji-chan?”and once again the way he says it makes the entire name seem sordid and shitty and damn him for being such a lowbrow asshole. The bottle waves back and forth in Zoro’s hand as he unstoppers it roughly wafting some strawberry scent strongly filling the air. Sanji does not want to smell like strawberry fields forever in his asshole but dear God in heaven of all that is holy delicious and succulent the reward… He swallows hard again in a fit of nerves finds his fingers in his mouth once again nibbling, gnawing, shooting a futile look for his cigarettes that have already seemed to roll to the farthest ends of the earth.
   Sanji looks at Zoro as he speaks, finding for that minute that the expression has shifted just enough to be noticeable from complete “beat my face in” dickhead to something a lot more desirable. So he’s probably had a rush of blood to the head or something, he determines because he’s really not starting to get into this. Yeah well, he’s been bent in half like this for too long and if that’s what it takes for Zoro to move then-
“You know I need it.” Mosshead. “Your dick is too big without it.” Mosshead. “I don’t think I can take it all if you don’t…” Just get on with it or so help me… His voice isn’t half as clear as he’d like, dropping to a near whisper more out of embarrassment than anything else but whatever Zoro thinks he hears in that it makes his face get all weird again and he ducks his head with a heavy breath and a soft mutter of shit while he pours what’s probably way too much of the bottle out into his hand. Sanji definitely smells the strawberries then, and rhubarb or something else and he can almost feel his stomach growl, middle of the night hunger and he thinks when this is over he’s definitely going to have to whip up something fast, decadent and-
   “Tsss…” Sanji can’t quite see between them but there’s that subtle motion in those idle seconds of his mind that escaped him as the head of Zoro’s cock presses to his hole- super slick hole- whatever the hell that stuff is making it practically suck in when he starts to push.
“Do you need me to take it nice and slow, Sanji-chan?” Zoro teases him with a voice that’s just a touch too unsteady, breathing in his ear and it feels far too close, to intimate, and Sanji can feel his face heating as he tries to remember to breathe, feeling Zoro moving slow- too damn slow really.
“If you need to go slow so you don’t shoot your load right away,” shitead. Sanji whispers the retort with a ventriloquist’s skill barely moving his lips more than a small smirk at Zoro’s answering growl. He can’t help the errant thought thinking how much Zoro would deserve it if Sanji were to head butt him in his stupid face right about now but instead he just turns his head and finds a small desperate whine keeping from his throat when Zoro calls his bluff and lets that slippery lubrication ease him the rest of the way in.
   Hard, deep, Sanji can hear in his head the fast mantra of shitfuckshitfuckfuck or some other variant beating wildly and he sees Zoro open his mouth to say something so stupid and offensive that it’ll probably ruin how damn shitty good everything feels right about now. Nami or no- and God he hears her just enough in the background, just a soft excited squeal, sees her hand go- Oh God if he looks now he’s not going to be able to do anything else! Sanji grits his teeth his hearing picking up every sound he wishes he’d never heard in his life like Chopper excitedly exclaiming that human males can’t couple without fruity smelling oil and he has no idea whether or not he should just let that stand. He has no idea how he’s had all the time to consider this in the brief moment it takes his hand to close over Zoro’s fat indignant mouth but it rushes by like some crazy ticker tape in his head.
   It’s only Zoro’s glare that brings him back to present, his hand sliding away when Zoro nips him like a nasty green mandolin slicer. He pulls at Zoro’s cheek, seeing a toothy grin as Zoro’s follow up is a snap of his hips sharp, hard, that makes Sanji’s head smack back against the rug covered planks of the floor with another hiss, diluted with another quick fast thrust and Sanji twist a leg, kicking Zoro in the small of his back with his heel, satisfied when he hears an answering grunt, even more satisfied when Zoro rocks into him again in answer.
   Zoro looks like he could use another pair of arms, small stupid muscle brain trying to process whether he should hold Sanji’s wrists back down to the floor or just grab hold of his hips and- Fuck… Sanji feels him move again, shift a little on his knees and he pictures again that dream, that closeness, that hard body covering his and he’ll deny it ‘til the day he dies that desire to be covered, taken maidenly, like a little virgin girl as one lovely Mistress with a crop and an equally gorgeous pink haired sister once teased him. You won’t think I’m less of man if I… surely you won’t hold it against me or not… No, a deal is a deal and Nami is nothing if not honorable with her agreements and that last little mental pep talk is the last little bit he needs to crack that shell open and let that yoke spill out, slough away, and Sanji takes a deep breath, hand sliding to the back of Zoro’s neck, pulling his face down, his whole body really, his own head turned to some point of the couch leg not particularly wanting to see that stupid face right now.
   “Please…” is all he mumbles, leaving Zoro to do whatever the hell he will with that hearing a curse breathed against the sweaty skin of his neck, Zoro’s hand pawing at his thigh, at his flank and he tilts his hips, panting, feeling Zoro start to move again fucking deep, slow, not realizing it was possible to drive so fucking hard at that pace but if anyone can, it’s Zoro. Sanji feels the fingers digging, bruising, and he stops being nice, stops tempering his own fingers and curls with the kitchen calloused pads, instead turning nails, short blunt, but still sharp enough to scrape hoping he can add another few scars- scars on a warrior’s back to remind him that Sanji might be his bitch tonight but the real bitch is- Oh fuck... Oh Godfuckfuck... Sanji feels Zoro seem to get bigger, harder, feel like he’s everywhere at once, as he rams him good a deep in response to that scratch making Sanji claw harder determined to draw blood just as Zoro draws a low throaty hum out of him. Sanji’s cock between them feels the friction of hard muscles, tanned skin sliding, rubbing, teasing precome out over the hyper sensitive head only making that slippery slope faster when Zoro gives his hips another tilt and makes Sanji practically howl as his body yields just that fraction further feeling every last hot bit of that huge monster cock spearing him open even wider. And he does the only thing he can think to take his attention divert that focus to anything but shaming himself in screaming that stupid name or even worse waking Luffy up.
   Sanji bites Zoro’s shoulder or at least close to it feeling his body trying to bend itself in half or arch back against the floor like the slicing blades of a pastry cutter. He can’t quite seem to figure out which way to move thinking he might have half cursed Zoro’s name but equally positive that there’s been an even faster chant of shitfuckshit spilled out twice for every motion of Zoro’s hips. Sanji hears another low growl to his ear, a quickening pace of breath and that pace of fucking, of raw hard cock drilling deep get more urgent and insistent and he can feel the hard muscles tense beneath his hands as he squeezes his thighs together hard, tight as he can manage every bit of him locked in that heavy throe of Zoro’s climax building just as steadily as his own with that angle of his cock brushing, teasing sharp tines of white hot heat and if there was room between them he’d slide his palm in that space and jack himself off he’s so close to-
“San…San…” Don’t say my name.. so help me if you’re gonna come you stupid mosshead don’t- “Santoryu!” Sanji can feel Zoro on top of him go still, feel him come, feel him empty his seed right at that moment as he holds his hips tighter and his mind is a garden medley of heat; angry and wild.
   Did he really just- Three sword style!? What kind of shitty thing is that to say?! And what kind of asshole just shoots off without even caring about-
“Ha-” Sanji’s hand claps to his mouth, biting the meaty side so he doesn’t make any noise at the sudden feel of Zoro’s hand around his shaft, the heavy weight gone off him as Zoro sits back on his knees. He sucks in a breath through his nose a few soft noises escaping his throat as he looks over toward Luffy half panicked. He sees Chopper craning his head, paper in hand and a yell of “what are you doing now!?” and he shuts his eyes tightly as the reminder that there are other unwanted guests flood back to him. He keeps his mouth covered, Usopp’s perverted leer at Nami’s exposed body making him nearly kick Zoro like a stupid green shotput at that long nose and it’s only the fast rough tug, that heady friction that makes his eyes roll back and makes him forget all of that for a few more precious seconds as his hips buck, hands falter as he struggles to get enough oxygen. He feels in one moment his ass on Zoro’s thighs, feels come pushing out sloppy messy and the thought of that picture is just so debauched, so fucking dirty that it makes his entire body light a bright flambé torch he hears an annoyed grumble of “hurry the hell up already.”
   Sanji has half a mind to tell that shithead if he wanted him to come he could’ve waited instead of just plowing ahead with his own damn pleasure but he twists his hand, turning his head about to tell him to just let him finish himself if all he can manage is one automatic motion when he catches sight of Nami, hands beneath the porthole, those large swaying breasts covered in a fine sheen of sweat light hitting them just so. Oh… So perfect, so pale milky white with those large nipples peaked, excited watching him and Sanji drops his hands down to the floor heavy hard, body twisting as best as he can manage to see her vacillating between her needy open mouthed gaze and Zoro looking at him with an unusual intensity that’s also a hard heavy rush until his head is a scrambled whisk between the two of them. Sanji quakes. He strains. He forgets to breathe as Zoro finally decides to make use of his other hand and he feels a damn delicious squeeze to his sac, a gasp, a near hiccup that makes him temporarily disoriented, his abdomen tight, hot, nerves firing off bubbling and boiling over until he does feel his back arc clear off the floor.
“N-” He thinks of Nami. “N-“ He also thinks of Zoro, both images molding behind his tightly shut eyes until the only thing that escapes him as he comes is a half stuttered “N-Noro…” He feels hot come splash his stomach, starts to feel the slow drizzle inside, outside, and he drops back down with a heavy exhaled breath just as Zoro unceremoniously dumps him on his side with a loud indignant yell of “Who’s are you calling slow?!” at almost the same time as Nami screams at Usopp “who said you could come?!” Sanji barely has the presence of mind to register words the entire scene feeling completely surreal as Chopper muses aloud that he was expecting there to be a knot.
   Sanji hisses, face barely avoiding the floor and he turns to Zoro sore, pissed, foot planting square in his chest only to be caught by some stupid meaty paw.
“Calling you, mosshead,” he snaps back automatically just as Nami sends a vase flying at Usopp’s head knocking him clear off the hammock with a disoriented warble of “I thought it was part of the deal” before he lands with a loud thud. And it’s that thud that draws all their attention to the lone figure still presumably asleep, no longer snoring softly in the background, the silence pindrop poignant. Sanji turns to Nami just as she slams the door shut quickly adding one more sound to a situation he really doesn’t want to have to explain. He’s thankful at least that the plunge into darkness buys a few moments for all of them to scramble and get back like nothing happened. That is if Zoro would let go of his damn foot already. All the battles we’ve been in, all the fights, and now you freeze?! You worthless, shitty-
“Zoro?” It’s Luffy’s voice clear as day if half sleep slurred and Sanji shakes his leg trying to get Zoro to let go of him. There’s a silence that elapses as Sanji swears under his breath and impatiently waits for his eyes to adjust to see if Luffy’s staring right back at them. Just answer him already, you idiot!
   It almost seems that Zoro hears him telepathically or he finally gets a clue in that moment. It’s hardly poetry. When he stammers back a voice cracking “what?” Sanji nearly smacks his own forehead. Of course the very next words out of Luffy’s mouth are “what’re y’doing?” Lie. Lie. C’mon…
“The stupid cook fell out of bed,” Zoro answers and Sanji can practically feel his smirk in the near pitch blackness. He grits his teeth. Calm. Stay calm. “So I thought I’d help him up before he hurt himself.” Smug. So fucking smug is how Zoro sounds just daring him to contradict the stupidity. Sanji readies his free leg about to kick that stupid smirking head off. There’s no way he’s gonna buy something that fucking stupid you damn shitty mosshead s-
“’kay.” Except that he does and Sanji nearly faints when Zoro finally lets go of his leg.
   He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he stands, legs like jelly, ass sore, well fucked, and as humiliating as this is. As ridiculous as he feels he can’t help but… …but notice that Zoro has stood as well heat radiating off and in spite of himself Sanji swallows hard having no earthly idea why he feels another stir of arousal.
“I need to piss,” he says suddenly, brilliantly because he will be damned if Zoro’s stupid mouth will have him sleeping like this all night. He’s boneless enough that he very well might fall off the mast but as he gathers his clothes and haphazardly throws on his pants -probably inside out- he still thinks it’s better than the alternative. Sanji breathes a sigh of relief hearing no further query from Luffy, hearing Usopp start to stir with a groan and he thanks whatever God is watching that the worst is over. Zoro can deal with his own damn mess, he thinks as starts feeling around on his hand and knees for his cigarettes and Zoro can-
“Sanji-“ He freezes hearing Luffy’s voice one more time a helluva lot more awake than it was a moment ago. He swallows hard. He knew that was too damn easy.
“..y-yeah?”
“Next time you have meat don’t keep it all to yourself.”
The sounds of multiple bodies dropping reverberates throughout the entire ship including even Nami ear pressed to the other side of the closed emergency door. And up on deck, Robin chuckles softly, retracting the last eye from the men’s room as she discreetly crosses a leg and goes back to her long forgotten book. The Straw Hats, she thinks, are turning out to be far more interesting than she ever imagined.
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- 5
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Like A Rolling Stone